Chapter 11 Shannon
Shannon
After this morning’s scare with a fierce bull, I needed to get out the house, so I drove to my parents.
My Jekyll and Hyde, aka Wesley, my hot neighbour who runs hot and cold like a broken shower, just had to get involved.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m grateful, but he’s already made it clear he doesn’t want me here.
The man’s a walking contradiction. Telling me to stay away, then coming to my rescue.
And if this morning wasn’t bad enough, the pinging notification in my emails for my stupid drunk purchase pops up.
I’ve got this habit of buying stuff most people would throw away and I’ve been known to go skip hunting.
Alright, it’s a little more than that. Yes, I’ve pulled up outside someone’s house, knocked on their door and asked if I could take something from their skip.
Half the time, they look at me like I’m riddled with the plague.
Have these people never heard of the saying, One person’s shit is another’s treasure?
I open my banking app and swipe through my last transactions.
There it is, in black and white, five thousand pounds gone from my account.
I close the app and switch to my eBay account. With shaky hands and trembling fingers, I tap on last purchases.
Congratulations, you’ve won the 125 Fuselage Body, size, twenty feet by six feet, ideal glamping conversion.
Shit, it’s not like I forgot… I just locked it away somewhere in my brain where mistakes live and hopefully fade away.
It’s not a joke. No one from the TV is going to jump out and say, “Fooled you.” Maybe if I close my eyes long enough, it might disappear?
“Who am I kidding? I bought a fucking plane.” I slap my palm to my forehead.
I’m an idiot. What the hell am I going to do with a plane?
Jesus, does it even come with wings? No, surely not.
This is a nightmare. The only thing I can do now is push it to the back of my mind.
Checking the delivery date, it’s due next week.
Is it even going to fit in my garden? Oh God, Shannon, you’re a total idiot at times, but this?
I confirmed the date and times with the seller, and we have a string of messages.
What the fuck, why would I write… I’m looking forward to flying around the world.
I close my eyes and try to calm down my breathing as I sit in Mum’s kitchen.
I know I have to tell her. I’ve been sitting here thinking because I don’t know how.
“Mum?” My squeaky voice and scrunched-up face must tell and show her I’ve done something stupid. Pulling in a harsh breath, I whisper the words, “I bought a plane.” Barely audible, but she can see it on my face, and I think she may have heard me.
“You’ve done what?” Mum gasps, throwing her hand over her mouth. I’ve been sitting at the kitchen table while mum potters around, deciding how to break the news about my impromptu purchase or drunk buy. “I said I bought a plane,” I whisper, waiting for the penny to drop.
“Yes, Shannon,” she tuts, “I heard you the first time.” Okay, so she wasn’t pretending she didn’t hear, she’s just in shock.
“I know how it sounds.” Trying to brush off the news. “But it’s actually not as bad as you think.” It would make a unique glamping pod. “Come on, how many glamping sites do you know where you can sleep in a freaking plane?”
Mum thinks about my question, more than likely still has a lot to say about it. “How are you going to convert it into a glamping pod?”
I want to tell her by watching YouTube videos, but I don't know the first thing about conversions. “I’m going to hire a handyman.”
“Does this plane have wings?” she asks. Maybe I should have mentioned this at the start.
“No. It’s actually only the fuselage, so no wings.” She’s still not impressed.
“What about your neighbour? It’s a little unfair, Shannon.” She shakes her head. “It’s rural up there, beautiful. He isn’t going to be happy.” She might be right, but at the minute I couldn’t care less about what Wesley thinks. It’s nothing to do with him.
“He’s an arsehole,” I mutter. Mum glances over to the kitchen table. “And he needs to close his curtains.”
She walks over, pulls out a chair opposite me, and sits down, resting her elbows on the table.
Lowering her voice, she leans in. A flicker of amusement paints her face.
“Oh, tell me more about the no curtains.” Of course she’s suddenly forgotten about the plane.
Heat creeps up my neck, a knowing smirk on mum’s face and there’s no way she’s letting it go.
“Fine.” I shift in my seat. “I may have seen.” I lean in closer, making sure Dad doesn’t hear. “His dick.”
“Shannon Newton,” Mum gasps, eyes wide.
I shrug my shoulders, unfazed. “What?”
Mum shifts in her seat, but the way her lips twitch tells me she’s trying to fight back a laugh. Mum’s only forty-five and I know once I leave this house, her and dad will enjoy their time alone. They don’t need their only daughter still living with them at twenty bloody five.
“The man walks around stark bollock naked.” Rolling my eyes. “Where else am I supposed to look?” Mum huffs, pushing herself up from the chair. She grabs a cloth and starts wiping down the already spotless worktop.
“I suppose he did help me with the bull.” The clatter of saucepans pulls my attention. Mum’s just staring at me.
“What bull?” she asks, wiping up the mess she’s just made.
“Oh, it’s nothing, there was a bull in my garden… but…”
Her eyes go wide, bugging out. “Bull as in… farm animal?”
I nod. “Yep, cheeky bugger, but don’t worry, the farmer came and took him home.” I don’t mention how Wesley helped. Or tell her how he manhandled me caveman style, without breaking a sweat in this sexy, don’t mess with me kind of way.
Thankfully, Mum doesn’t push, so I don’t say another word about him.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” She waves her hands around excitedly. “Talking about men, guess what?” she says, flicking the kettle on. “Joan and Fred’s son, Barney, is back.” Mum’s eyes light up with excitement while mine roll so hard they nearly fall out of my head.
I’ve known Barney forever. Before he left for America almost six years ago.
I was nineteen and Barney was twenty-two.
I lost my virginity to him. But he came back nine months ago and of course it happened again.
I ended up sleeping with him the night before he went back to America.
I told him at the time it was just sex and nothing more.
It got awkward the next day when he turned up at the door holding a bunch of roses and a box of Milk Tray, leaning in to whisper, “All because the lady loves a Milk Tray.”
And of course, me being me, I said, “Actually, I’m not a fan of Milk Tray.”
I figured why lie? Mum, however, told me I was being rude and shunted me out the way, pulling him and his petrol station flowers and close to out-of-date chocolates in the house. I could see my future flash before my eyes, and it wasn’t pretty… pretty fucking awful maybe.
And I’d rather not take the trip back down memory lane, it was a one-time thing.
Okay two, but the first doesn’t count.
Mum and his mum were playing matchmaker.
Barney, of course, was all for it but if I’m honest, he was too much of a gentleman.
Don’t get me wrong, he was always nice, always polite but charmingly agreeable, the kind of man who would let you win in an argument even if you were talking absolute shit, whereas I’m all up for a debate, and I like to be challenged.
He’s attractive, caring, and considerate, but he wouldn’t throw you around in the bedroom. He’d play it safe, keep it gentle. We just wouldn’t fit.
And I’ve done safe.
Safe is boring.
Safe is predictable.
And I’m built for a lot more than predictable and safe.
I bet my entire sexual fantasies on Wesley and his broody self are wired a little differently, men like him don’t just take charge.
They own it.
I couldn’t see Barney throwing me around the bedroom without breaking into a sweat like Wesley Parker.
Why the hell am I thinking about him again?
“Anyway.” Mum snaps me out of my fantasy. “I told Joan you’d take Barney for a drink later.” Her smile is so wide, eyes sparkling with excitement. I swear I can see my future wedding dress reflected in them, all that scratchy lace.
“Shit, why would you do that?” I slap a hand against my forehead.
“You haven’t seen him in nine months, Shan.” She glances down, muttering under her breath. “Maybe you could invite him to your new house?”
I like Barney as a friend… a very long-distant one. Another continent type of friend, but the least I can do is play nice and humour mum. “When is he coming over?”
She dramatically claps her hands together then looks at her watch. “In about an hour.” Fuck. My. Life.
But how can I refuse? My parents have done so much for me. Besides, it can’t be that bad… surely.
It’s 4 p.m. by the time we get to the pub. A friendly rugby match plays on the big TVs, though the place isn’t nearly as packed out as it was for the last game.
“What are you drinking?” Barney asks, leaning over the bar, scanning the area for the barman. He looks back at me with his lopsided grin. To anyone else it would be sweet, but I don’t see him like that. To me he was just my virginity vessel, and I thought it was the same for him.
“Lemonade, please. I want to finish packing when I get home.” He nods, still smiling, and he’s not going to give up.
Drinks in hand, we settle at a table closest to the TVs. The low sounds of conversations blend into the background until Barney nudges my arm. “How have you been? Tell me everything you’ve been up to.” We’re sat at a small round table, two chairs and a small back bench.
Where I chose to sit, thinking he’d take the seat opposite me.
But no.